


Stranger

by Rasiaa



Series: Teddy and Victoire [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Broken Promises, F/M, Kissing, Moving On, Silence, Sunsets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 10:45:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasiaa/pseuds/Rasiaa
Summary: "What a way to say goodbye," he whispers, and she can feel the tears on her fingers. / On losing your best friend.





	Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published: 1-15-2016

It had been three days ago when they'd last exchanged words, and even then it was only a simple inquiry about the milk.

She can't remember when she last really spoke to him. It wasn't because of a fight, or anything. If it was, she wasn't aware of it. It was a simple case of having nothing to say.

"Teddy," she says, and he pauses, turning. His hands dripped water on the floor because he'd been doing the dishes, and she normally would've fussed about it, but now she finds that she doesn't really care. "What are we doing?"

He lowers his eyes from hers and turns back around. He shuts off the water.

The silence stretches out for a long time. She can hear the sound of his voice in her ears, his laughter, what he sounded like when he said her name. Once upon a time, she figured she might have been in love with him.

She admits this to herself and makes her legs work. She stands and sets aside her book. Her bare feet make no noise on the carpet as she moves toward him. She places her hand on his tense arm, and he turns to her unspoken request.

She moves closer and stands up to kiss him.

He reciprocates immediately, but doesn't touch her. The kiss is lazy.

She feels nothing. Nothing when she looks at him anymore. He isn't anyone to her.

She doesn't know the man she is living with. Had been living with for many years now.

"Nothing," she says when they pull apart.

He leans against the counter and spreads his hands out in a helpless gesture. "Nothing," he agrees. She drops her hand.

"Can I stay until I find something else?" she asks softly, and he nods swiftly.

"Of course, Victoire," he promises, and it is then that she knows that it is over. He never calls her by her given name. Two and half decades of friendship and her best friend and brother became a stranger.

She wonders, fleetingly, what happened, and then she figures that nothing had, really. It was a simple fact that work had kept them apart and people change. Feelings disappear when they're never acted upon.

She turns and walks away.

Grief hits her like a tidal wave when she makes it to her room and shuts the door. She sinks to the floor and draws her knees to her chest and buries her face.

She doesn't look for a new apartment. She cries herself to sleep, instead.

…

"I really am sorry," Teddy apologizes once more. She's the one that turns, this time, and she gives him a fleeting smile. She passes her trunk to the worker loading the train, and she puts her hands on his face. Runs her fingers through his hair.

"Don't be sorry," she whispers against his lips. "I'll never forget the person you helped me become, all you've done for me. If you need me, send an owl. It's just that we've grown apart and there's nothing more for it."

He tightens his hold on her elbows and kisses her chastely, sadly, desperately, "I don't what made me let you go," he tells her.

She shakes her head and laughs softly, kissing back. "No one let go. We caught sight of something beautiful on different roads and wandered off like lost children."

"What a way to say goodbye," he whispers, and she can feel the tears on her fingers.

She kisses him again and sobs quietly. "It wasn't. This is. It's time to turn the page."

"Goodbye, Victoire Weasley."

She releases him and climbs up the stairs to the cart on the train. She doesn't look back, but after the door slips shut and she sits down, and the train starts to move, she looks out the window and catches sight of his gray eyes and dark blue hair, mussed from her fingers and his face wet. They don't break their gazes as she rolls away and she stares at the same spot on the window long after the station has turned to mountains and he has disappeared from her sight and her life.

…

A year has passed, maybe two. She doesn't know, exactly. All she knows now is that her mother is crazy for ever having left France for England and that she loves her creative writing classes.

"Who in the world has blue hair?" Her best friend Veronique asks her one day, and the question makes her pause.

"What did you say?" she requests, spinning in her chair to face the dark haired woman across the room.

Veronique points impatiently at the printed-paper she's holding. "I'm just reading this short that you wrote and I'm wondering what's up with the blue hair? It seems to be a thing with you."

"What? No it isn't," she denies, and she turns away.

It's a bitter lie.

"Whatever," her friend says. She mentally collapses with relief. "Don't tell me. What do I know anyway? I'm not your best friend or anything."

She could slap her.

"It's time," Veronique finishes, and she glances out the window to see that she's right.

They gather the blankets and their cokes and they migrate outside to watch the sun set over the horizon.

Veronique vanishes in the middle of it because it gives her an idea- which is the whole point of this, really, but she still feels bitter about the abandonment- and she remains sitting and blinking at the dying rays.

It feels like she's seen too many sunsets, and they mean less and less to her each one she sees. Their beauty is drained and superficial and blank. Just like her.

…

She's alone.

Has been for several days.

She hasn't seen an owl for a long time.

The noise startles her and she drops her quill. The ink splatters all over her writing and she curses, reaching into her boot for her wand. Before she reaches it, the owl lands on it and digs his claws into the paper so it's worthless now anyway. She sighs and pulls the red string from his leg. He hoots at her softly and flies to her windowsill.

The parchment is clean and crisp. It's also very cold, which doesn't surprise her much. She unravels the note slowly, careful not to tear it. There are ten words written.

_I miss you more than I thought I would._

_-Teddy._

Her heart breaks.

…

And that night, she's on a train.

…

The light is on behind the curtains. She shivers in her winter coat and grips her trunk more tightly, swallowing heavily. She walks forward.

The door swings open as soon as she steps on the first stair leading up to it, and he's there. He's in a night robe and slippers, looking absolutely ridiculous with the neon green hair color and shady gold eyes, but he looks more happy than she remembers him ever being in the last few months before her departure.

"Vicky," he breathes, eyes wide. She smiles, a small twitch of her lips, but he laughs joyously and pulls her close.

"Vicky, Vicky, my Vic," he says in her ear, and she wraps her arms around him.

He feels like he always has- strong and lithe, his heart beating under her ear and the wiry muscle of his arms holding her tight. He was never a stranger, and she wonders why she ever thought that.

For the first time in a long time, she feels like she's come home.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man. I can't believe it's been this long. This is such a personal piece for me- this was written on the day that my best friend, Nick- he is no longer in my life- told me off and said he was done with me. He said, basically, that I wasn't worth the fight. And it still hurts, even after all this time, and it makes me really eager to graduate high school and move away so I never have to see his face in the hallways anymore. I'm writing this in the notes here so I don't forget it. And if he ever sees this, I want him to think of me. And I want him to know-- I wish you the best. But you'll miss me someday. I'm wroth the fight, after all.  
> But I wrote Teddy and Vic because they are home, for me, and Harry Potter was home for he and I. It mattered so much to the both of us.  
> No one ever talks about broken friendships. You need to vent, or just have a stranger to talk to? I'm all ears. I know what it feels like.


End file.
